


Playing with a New Toy

by merelysherlocked



Series: Experimenting [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Sherlock, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Hand Jobs, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Nudity, Riding Crops, Smut, Sub John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelysherlocked/pseuds/merelysherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock likes to keep his riding crop in the flat. Sometimes he likes to play with it when he's bored or trying to think. John acts like he doesn't like the riding crop, but he actually does. However, Sherlock doesn't know that he does; he thinks that he hates it. What will happen when Sherlock discovers the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since there was such a great response to my other story, Experimenting, I decided to write another story centered around John and Sherlock. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy it!

John had not expected to actually be in a “real” relationship with Sherlock Holmes after the little incident with the red lace knickers. After all, Sherlock Holmes didn’t “get attached” to anyone. John, however, was evidently different than any other person that Sherlock had ever met.  After the night with the knickers, Sherlock had told John that he actually cared for him, and that he wanted to start a real, romantic, relationship with him.  
At first, John thought that he was joking, but Sherlock wasn’t. He had meant what he said. Sherlock actually did things that someone in a real relationship _would_ do. He cooked for John occasionally (although he wasn’t a great cook), he brought him tea when he didn’t want to get out of bed, and he took him out to dinner. Of course, Sherlock did a lot of other things, too, but those were the things that stood out to John the most. 

And, obviously, Sherlock enjoyed being intimate with John. John didn’t understand how Sherlock could be so good at being...physical, but he didn’t think about that too often. He had just learned to appreciate Sherlock’s skill in bed. And in the kitchen. And in the sitting room. They had yet to do it in John’s bedroom, but John was sure that they would do that eventually. Sherlock seemed to be...interested in seeing how John reacted in different rooms of their flat. 

 

  
  


Sherlock smirked to himself when he saw John’s face turn a faint shade of red. Sherlock was sitting across the sitting room from him, but he noticed the sudden change of color.  
   
   “What are you thinking about, John?” He asked, sliding the riding crop through one of his hands.  
  
   “N-” John glanced up; his face turned a bit redder. “What are you doing with that thing?”  
  
 Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows.  
  
   “I’m sliding it through my hands...problem?” He tilted his head.  
  
Was Sherlock really that...oblivious? He pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
   “I can’t concentrate with you playing with that thing.”  
  
   “It’s a riding crop, John. Not a ‘thing’.” 

   “I-I know what it is called, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock eyed John before standing up and making his way over to him. He placed the tip of the riding crop next to John’s hand. John let out a breath.  
  
   “Can you please not bring that so close to me?” John asked, focusing his gaze on his laptop.  
   
Sherlock slid the tip onto John’s hand. John swallowed and tried to focus on something else except for the riding crop. 

   “It’s just a riding crop....” His eyes widened slightly when a thought occurred to him. “This turns you on, doesn’t it, John?” 

Although they had been dating for a while now- for three months, if John recalled correctly- they had not discussed kinks yet. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t make “fun” of him for any kinks that he may have, but he wasn’t exactly...ready to share that information with him, mainly because it hadn’t really come up in any of their conversations. John wasn’t sure if Sherlock truly understood the complexity that came with intimacy. 

   “It might,” John finally choked out, sliding his hand away from the riding crop. 

   “Oh?” Sherlock leaned forward and placed his hand on John’s groin. John sucked in a breath and felt his body tense slightly. Sherlock grinned. “Based on my deductions, John, I would say that you are, in fact, aroused.”  
   
   “T-thank you for that beautiful deduction, Sherlock.” John said, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
Sherlock took a step back and frowned. 

  
  “Is something wrong? Did you not want me to know that you find the riding crop...appealing?” 

John shrugged.  
  
  “It never came up in conversation. And...you seemed pretty content on having sex in every room in the flat.”  
  
Sherlock let out a soft breath.

  “Yes, well...we could have done other things, too.”  
  
John blushed at the thought of Sherlock using a riding crop on him. He shifted in his seat. 

  “Would you like me to try the riding crop on you some time, John?”  
  
  “Maybe.”  
  


While John kept Sherlock on his feet a lot of the time, Sherlock could still pinpoint when John was lying to him. It wasn’t that hard to figure out- he generally glanced away from him, shifted in his seat, or used a different, softer tone of voice that he usually did not use. Sherlock found it amusing; sometimes he liked to play a little game with himself to see how many times he could breakdown one of John’s lies. 

Sherlock picked up the riding crop and gently grazed it up John’s arm. John shivered and glanced up at Sherlock. His breath caught in his throat. 

  “I think that you do want me to try this on you sometime.” Sherlock said softly, twirling the riding crop in his hand. 

  “I-” John began to say.  
  
  “It’s okay, John...you can tell me the truth.” He smiled. “Besides...I already know that you find it....appealing.” He dropped the tip of the riding crop to John’s growing erection. John sucked in a breath and shifted again. He didn’t truly understand _why_ he was being so bashful about this. It wasn’t like this was _odd._ Plenty of people got aroused by certain objects. 

  “Y-yes, I do want you to use that on me sometime.” He murmured, his gaze finding Sherlock’s. 

Sherlock smiled and kissed John gently, just brushing his lips over his. He pulled away and tossed the riding crop into his chair. 

  “Okay. I will. However, I don’t want to use that riding crop.” He points to the one that he had just thrown. “I want to get a different one.” 

John swallowed and nodded. 

  “Okay...just, erm, don’t take me by surprise, okay? When you want to use the riding crop...let me know.”   
  
Sherlock grinned. 

  “Of course.” 

He leaned down to kiss John again before getting up and skipping - yes, _skipping_ _-_ to his bedroom. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Sherlock's experiments goes wrong. Some dirty talk and laying on the floor ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you for the support! I really appreciate it.] 
> 
> Well...I'm not quite sure what happened with this chapter, but I hope that you enjoy it!

John didn’t hear much about the riding crop the next day. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock had forgotten about it- he highly doubted that he did- or if he was just acting as if he had forgotten about it to make John relax a bit. Either way, John wasn’t complaining. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ Sherlock to use the riding crop- he did. The mere thought of Sherlock standing over him with it made his hair stand on edge and his breath catch in his throat.  He was nervous about how...vulnerable he would be when Sherlock decided to use it on him. A loud crash threw John out of his thoughts. He blinked and got up from the table.   
  
  “Sherlock?” he asked, glancing in the direction of the sound. 

  “I’m-I’m fine, John.” 

John rolled his eyes. _You liar._ He hurried towards the noise that seemed to come from Sherlock’s room. Or, their room, now, he supposed. When they first got together, John wanted to sleep in his own room since Sherlock was still new when it came to being in a relationship. Sherlock, however, much to his surprise, insisted that John should sleep with him. He claimed that they were a couple, so they should do something that couples actually did. How could John argue with that? So, ever since then, John had spent his nights in his partner’s bed. 

A month ago, John would have knocked on the door before entering Sherlock’s room, but he just walked into it now. His eyes widened when he took in the scene around him. Sherlock was laying on the floor, completely naked, save for a tie that was wrapped around his head. John froze. 

  “Why...what happened here?” He asked, his gaze still on Sherlock’s body. 

  “I was trying to get dressed without visual aid.” Sherlock said, his voice muffled by the floor. 

  “And...why were you trying to do that?” 

  “Because I thought that it would be interesting.” 

  “Oh. Well...was it?”

  "Not particularly, seeing as I tripped before I could finish the experiment." 

John fought off a chuckle. 

  “You know that you can take off the blindfold now...seeing as your hands aren’t tied together or anything.” 

Sherlock shook his head. 

  “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” 

  “And why can’t you?” 

  “I don’t feel like moving.” 

Sometimes John forgot how truly lazy Sherlock could be. When Sherlock wanted to solve a case, he didn’t stop moving. John tried to get him to eat and sleep during those times, but Sherlock always refused. He said that the case was more important than his body’s needs. However, when Sherlock wasn’t working a case, he seemed to become a much lazier man: one that refused to pick up his own phone (even when it was in his _pocket_ ), or sometimes pick out his own clothes. Most of the time Sherlock wanted John to make his tea, too, when he wasn’t running about trying to solve a case. 

Sighing, John walked over to Sherlock and removed the tie. Sherlock smiled softly.   
  
  “Thank you, John.”   
  
Before John could respond, Sherlock pulled on John’s hand, causing him to fall right on top of him. 

  “Wh-”  

He was cut off by Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist, refusing to let him get up. He kissed him gently, lightly brushing his lips against John’s. John’s protests faded with every peck of Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock smiled and kissed him more deeply once he quieted down. John moaned softly, his protests of being pulled to the floor long forgotten. Sherlock’s hands slipped under John’s shirt and brushed his back. 

  “T-take it off,” John murmured, knowing that Sherlock knew what he was referring to. His breath came out raggedly. 

Sherlock grinned and sucked John’s bottom lip as he tossed the shirt off of him. John’s hands slid down to Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock sucked in a breath when he felt John’s hands move lower but not quite low enough. He groaned when John removed his hands and tangled them in Sherlock’s hair. 

_Two can play at that game._ Sherlock ran his hand over John’s groin. John let out a small gasp when Sherlock stroked it a few times before placing his hand on John’s butt. He squeezed it gently as his mouth claimed a piece of John’s neck as its own. Sherlock bit at the spot a few times before licking over it, causing John to moan and rub his lower body against Sherlock’s. Sherlock grinned and placed his hands on John’s hips, steadying them. 

  “No.” He said sternly. 

Sherlock hummed and rolled them over so he was on top of John. John looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes. 

  “What do you want, John?” Sherlock asked, brushing his lips against John’s ear. 

Shivers ran up John’s spine. 

  “T-the riding crop.” It slipped out before John could stop it. 

A grin broke across Sherlock’s face. Even though he hadn’t ordered the new riding crop yet, he was glad that John truly wanted him to try it on him. As much as he wanted to use it, he didn’t want to use it if John didn’t want him to. 

  “I don’t have it yet.” Sherlock said softly, still murmuring against John’s ear. “But...” His hands reached down to John’s trousers. He quickly unbuttoned them and pulled them off of him. “I can’t wait to use it on you...” 

His hand brushed over John’s very prominent erection. John moaned and arched towards his hand, desperate to be touched. 

  “I can’t wait to make you lie on the bed, on your stomach...” 

He glanced at John, whose face was turning redder by the second. 

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Lying on your stomach so you couldn’t see where I would hit you...” 

John nodded curtly and swallowed. An image of Sherlock standing over him without him being able to see Sherlock flashed through his mind. He shifted against Sherlock’s stomach. 

  “And you would want me to slap you in different places...so you would be kept guessing.” 

John moaned in affirmation. Sherlock grinned and pulled John’s pants off of him, freeing him. 

  “P-please touch me, Sherlock. _Please._ ” John said, pushing himself against Sherlock’s thigh. 

Part of Sherlock wanted to keep teasing John- he wanted to see him become even more undone, but he decided that he had teased him enough. At least, for the day. He nodded and kissed John roughly as his fingers wrapped around John’s member. John let out a loud moan and pushed himself against Sherlock’s hand. 

Sherlock didn’t waste any more time. He stroked John quickly as he kissed him deeply. Before Sherlock realized it, John was moaning his name loudly and coming. 

 

 

Sherlock smiled softly once John was done and kissed him gently. John smiled crookedly, still panting from his release. 

  "Thank you," John breathed, wrapping his arms around him. 

  “You’re welcome.” Sherlock rolled over so he was laying next to John. He pulled John closer to him, letting John rest his head on his chest. John smiled and kissed his chest. 

  “Later on today...I’m going to return the favor.” He said, yawning softly. 

Sherlock grinned, running his hand through John’s hair. 

  “I’ll be looking forward to it.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you for your support! It truly means a lot to me.]

Later on that day, John found Sherlock laying on the couch, one leg hanging off of the edge. He smirked to himself when a thought popped into his mind. He walked over to Sherlock and gently laid on top of him before he could protest. Sherlock’s eyes jerked open. 

  “What are you doing, John?” Sherlock asked, his gaze on John. 

  “Was surprising you...did it work?” He folded his arms and rested his chin on them. 

Sherlock shook his head, but smiled softly. 

  “No, but I appreciate your attempt. Why were you trying to surprise me, anyways?” 

John blushed.

  “For no reason. Anyways.” He glanced at his laptop. “I guess I should work on my blog. I haven’t updated it in a few days.” 

He pushed his legs off of the couch so he could get up. _That was a stupid idea,_ he thought to himself, unable to believe that he thought that he could surprise him. Sherlock had the senses of a cat, after all. Or a fox. He couldn’t decide which one Sherlock was more like. His thoughts were interrupted by an arm wrapped around his waist. 

  “Don’t go, John.” Sherlock mumbled. 

  “I’m not going anywhere...I’m just going to write on my blog.” 

Sherlock got up so he could wrap his legs around John’s waist. John’s eyebrows shot up as a small smile crossed his face. He spun around, leaning forward slightly so he could kiss Sherlock. Sherlock hummed against John’s lips. 

  “I knew that you came over for a reason,” he mumbled. 

John nodded and kissed Sherlock harder, his lips pressing firmly on his. Sherlock laid down, pulling John with him. John’s hand untucked Sherlock’s shirt and slid underneath it. Sherlock hummed loudly, arching his back so he could feel John’s hand better. John smiled, pulling away. 

  “No. No moving.” He stared at Sherlock. “If you move, I will stop...got it?” 

Sherlock shivered. John rarely used his “army voice” on him, but he loved it when he did. Something about the tone made the hair on his neck stand on edge and his breath quicken. 

  “Yes, yes, John.” He said softly. 

John removed his hands from under Sherlock’s shirt. 

  “No. That is not correct.” 

Sherlock swallowed; his breathing picked up. 

  “I mean...yes, yes, sir.” 

Even though Sherlock had never told John that he enjoyed it when he used his army-tone of voice, John knew that he did. He may not have been as “observant” as Sherlock, but he knew Sherlock just as well as Sherlock knew John. Sometimes, they learned things about each other by simply _paying attention_ to each other’s body language. A touch on the arm, a specific glance, or the dilation of pupils could speak volumes. 

  “Much better.” 

He slid his hands back under his shirt as he leaned down to kiss him. This time, John did not pull away. He kissed Sherlock hard, using his body to make sure that he stayed still. He rubbed his lower body against Sherlock’s. Sherlock moaned softly and curled his hands into fists in order to stay still. John bit Sherlock’s bottom lip as he hands unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. 

  “What do you want, Sherlock?” he asked, sliding his mouth over to Sherlock’s ear. He gently sucked at his earlobe. 

  “N-nothing, sir.” Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice even. 

  “Nothing? So you don’t want me to do this?” He placed his hand over Sherlock’s covered member. Sherlock moaned softly. “Or this?” He stroked him before sliding his hand back up to Sherlock’s stomach. 

  “N-no, I do want that, please, sir, please touch me.” 

  “I am touching you,” John said, referring to his hands that were tracing patterns on Sherlock’s bare chest. 

Sherlock swallowed hard.

  “No...I want you, I want you to stroke my-” he gestured to his erection. John glanced through the tiny space between their bodies and grinned. 

  “Ah, I suppose I can attend to that.” 

He kissed Sherlock hard on the lips as his he unbuttoned Sherlock’s trousers. 

  “Pull them down for me, Sherlock.” 

  “Yes, sir.” 

Sherlock obeyed, pulling his trousers down. John smiled and shimmied down so his mouth was against a particular spot on Sherlock’s neck that he loved. He bit it gently as he slid his hands under Sherlock’s pants, wrapping around Sherlock’s member. 

  “Yes, yes, John. That-that-” 

 John wanted to correct Sherlock, but he decided that Sherlock had been good enough. He sucked Sherlock’s neck as his hand began to move. 

  “Ohhh,” Sherlock murmured, pushing up against John’s hand. 

Sherlock tilted his head up so John had better access to his neck. John bit another spot, making Sherlock emit a low sort of growl. Smiling softly, he moved his hand faster as he sucked at the spot that he had just bitten.

  “John, John, John,” Sherlock chanted, pressing himself harder against John’s hand. 

John kept stroking Sherlock until he released onto his hand. Sherlock cried out loudly, moaning John’s name. Once he was finished, John moved up so his face was a few inches away from Sherlock's. His face was bright red and little beads of sweat covered his forehead. 

  “Good?” John asked softly, kissing him. 

  “Very,” Sherlock murmured against his lips.   
  
  "Good."   
  
John pecked Sherlock's lips again and laid his head on his chest. The two men yawned, tired from the activity they had just completed. Sherlock closed his eyes first, but John soon followed. They quickly fell asleep, comforted by each other's presence.   
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally decides to buy a new riding crop. Or does he buy two?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you for all of your support! It really means a lot to me.]

John was thrown out of his thoughts when Sherlock grabbed his laptop from under his hands. Literally. John was in the middle of typing a case up on his blog when Sherlock came out of no where- or what seemed like no where- and took the laptop from him. He stood and pointed to the laptop. 

  
       “I was using that, Sherlock!”

Sherlock waved a hand in John’s direction as he took a seat in his chair. 

       “Well, I need to use it for a bit.” 

John ran a hand down his face. He was a patient man, a very patient man - at least he liked to think so- but he did not understand why Sherlock always took his laptop when he was trying to work on a new post for his blog. A blog that people actually read- one that helped him look at things in a different light. 

       “You do have your own laptop...you know that, correct?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and typed away. 

       “Yes, I do realize that, but yours was right here, so I decided to use it.” He glanced up at John. “Problem?” 

Every part of John wanted to scream yes but that wasn’t going to solve anything. Sherlock was going to do whatever he wanted to do. Sighing, he walked over to Sherlock; he took his place behind the detective and watched him.  

       “Riding crops?” he asked, surprised. 

He folded his arms on the back of the chair, resting his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock chuckled and nodded. 

       “Yes. If I remember correctly, I told you that I would buy a new one for our little...experiment.” 

A shiver ran up John’s spine; his body trembled softly at the thought of Sherlock holding a riding crop in his hand while he laid on the bed beneath him. 

       “Ah-” he cleared his throat. “And which kind do you want to get?” 

Sherlock clicked on a relatively short riding crop that had a thin leather loop at the end. He held the laptop up to John so he could see it properly. 

       “T-that’s the one that you want to get?” he asked, his voice coming out more roughly than he had expected it to. 

Sherlock placed the laptop back on his lap and nodded. 

       “Well, I was not entirely sure if I was going to get it, but after hearing your reaction to the riding crop, I will most definitely order it.” He made the mouse hover over the “buy” button. “Before I order this...what color would you like? Would you like it to be red?” 

Red. The word echoed in John’s mind for several moments before he managed to answer. He cleared his throat. 

       “Red or orange sounds good.” He said, glancing at the screen. 

       “Oh, I did not even think about getting an orange one.” His gaze flicked over his shoulder. “Would you like me to get a red and orange one? - Wait, don’t answer that.” 

John watched him as he turned back to the screen and put two riding crops in the cart. One was a dark orange, and the other one was a relatively light red. 

 

       “I thought that you were only going to get one?” He asked, curious as to why Sherlock would get two riding crops instead of one. 

Sherlock clicked a button on his laptop and closed it. He bounced to his feet, grinning. 

       “Because we can experiment with two riding crops.”  

John swallowed and pulled away from the seat as Sherlock placed the laptop on the floor next to the chair. 

       “How could we experiment with two?” 

Sherlock, being the tease that he was, kneeled on the chair so his lips were right next to John’s ear. His breath lightly brushed against it. Shivers ran up John’s spine. 

       “Well...if I get two...I can see how you react to each one. I will be able to analyze your reaction to each one. I will be able to see how...undone you become for me.” He smiled at the thought.

John swallowed audibly. Sherlock chuckled and licked John’s earlobe. John, Captain John Watson, jumped at the contact. 

       “Y-you’re a tease, you know that?” he managed to choke out. 

       “Yes, you have told me countless times that I am one.” He hopped off of the chair, finished with the conversation. He turned and headed to his room, where his violin was. He hadn’t played it all day, so he was desperate to play it. After all, the violin did help him think. And he had a lot of thinking to do- he needed to figure out what exactly he was going to do with the riding crops when they arrived. “By the way,” he called out, right when he was in the doorway of his room. “The riding crops will arrive in two days.” 

He entered his room then and shut the door, leaving a very turned on ex-Army doctor in the sitting room. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The riding crop arrives. Sherlock becomes demanding. John becomes submissive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sorry for the delay! Here's the next chapter; I hope that you enjoy it!]

It came! -SH    

John glanced down at his phone and read the text. A blush crept on his cheeks. Sherlock may have not have told him what came, but he knew exactly what had arrived in the mail today. He shifted in his seat, wishing that Sherlock hadn’t texted him about this while he was at work. He hadn’t even seen the object yet and he was already physically responding to it. 

That’s fantastic, Sher. JW  

He sent the text and placed his phone back on the desk. He glanced at the clock that rested on the wall. Just two more hours to go. Just a few more patients. 

 

Sherlock took the red riding crop out of the box, a small smile playing on his lips. It had come. Finally. He only had to wait two days for the package to arrive, but it felt like he had waited longer. Sometimes, he wished that he was a more patient man. If he was, he would’ve handled this whole “waiting for the riding crops” thing much better. 

Over the last few days, Sherlock had basically destroyed the kitchen. Well, he did not believe that he had destroyed it, but John said that he did. He didn’t understand how burning a bit of the kitchen table was “destroying” the kitchen, though. Once the fire started, he tried to put it out, but apparently, he didn’t move fast enough. John was putting out the fire within seconds after it started. Without John, Sherlock was pretty sure that he would have burned down the kitchen. 

Not only did Sherlock almost burn the kitchen while he waited for the riding crops to arrive, he also made a point to go through John’s socks and burn the ones that he personally did not like. He didn’t run into any problems when he burned the socks until he reached the last pair. He accidentally lit the socks while they were still on the counter, which led to the fire that John had to put out. John refused to talk to Sherlock for about two hours after that incident. Luckily, John did come around when Sherlock made him a nutella sandwich with jam. 

Sherlock grabbed a pillow from John’s chair and put it on the coffee table. Once it was in the position that he wanted it to be in, he hit it with the riding crop. John knew that Sherlock had plenty of experience with using a riding crop, but Sherlock usually used the riding crop on dead bodies, so he wanted Sherlock to practice on something else before he allowed Sherlock to touch him with a riding crop. The detective practiced different swings with the object until he felt comfortable with using it. It was lighter than his old one, so he had to be careful of not swinging it too hard. He didn’t want to injure John; he just wanted to hit him enough that he could feel the sting of the riding crop. He put the riding crop back in the carrying case that it came with and put it on his bed. Once it was put away, he went back into the sitting room and waited for John to come home.   

 

Right when John was about to go upstairs to the flat, his phone buzzed. He slid it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. 

My reign starts now. -SH   

He furrowed his eyebrows, not fully understanding what that text meant. He was just about to put it away when his phone buzzed again. His gaze flicked to the screen. 

Don’t say hi to me. Simply enter the flat, walk over to me, and start undressing. -SH 

A blush crept up on John’s cheeks. 

Oh and do not stop undressing unless I say so. If you do, there will be consequences. -SH   

John swallowed. He hadn’t even seen or heard Sherlock yet, but here he was, already aroused by the man. He figured that was what Sherlock wanted, though.   
Yes, I wanted to make you hard. Now, come on. Stop dawdling. -SH   

He bit his cheek and hurried up the stairs. He placed his phone on the kitchen table, shrugged his jacket off, and turned to face the sitting room. His movements stopped when his gaze landed on Sherlock. Sherlock was sitting in his favorite chair, fully clothed, with a red riding crop in his hand. He swung it back and forth, but his gaze was on John. John swallowed and forced himself to walk over to the consulting detective. Sherlock smirked, his gaze still on the smaller man. 

John expected Sherlock to say something, to tell him to begin, but after a few moments of waiting, he realized that Sherlock was not going to say anything. After all, he already had given John instructions. John nodded and stepped out of his shoes. His hands moved to the hem of his jumper, and he pulled it off quickly. Sherlock, of course, was watching intently. He gave a small nod, telling John to continue. 

And continue John did. His hands moved to his trouser buttons. Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms along his thighs. His eyes were blown wide. Yes, this was much better than he had expected. John unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and pushed them to the side.   
“Wait,” Sherlock said, before John started to pull down his pants. John stopped and looked at Sherlock. 

“Why?” John paled slightly when he realized what he had just done. Sherlock shook his head. 

“John, I told you that you were not allowed to talk.” 

“I know-” 

Sherlock grinned at John’s mistake. 

“Get on all fours. Now. Do not speak.” 

John opened his mouth, but closed it before anything came out. He bit his lip and got on all fours, just as Sherlock told him to do. 

“Face towards the fireplace, John.” 

Swallowing, the smaller man shifted so he was facing the fireplace. 

“Good.” 

With those words, Sherlock swung the riding crop. The object hit John’s arse, making him grunt in pain. 

“No. I said...do not speak,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. 

John wanted to nod, but he stayed still. The pain from the first hit seemed to subside, and evolve into pleasure. Sherlock hit John two more times, but John didn’t make a sound for either hit. 

“Good. Now, John, I want you to unbutton my shirt. While you kneel.” 

Sherlock leaned back against the chair and spread his legs so John could fit in between them. John got on his knees and “walked” over to Sherlock. He unbuttoned the taller man’s shirt slowly, backing away once he was finished. Sherlock glanced down at his shirt and grinned. 

“Thank you, John.” He shrugged the shirt off. “You may stand now.” 

John stood, happy to be off of his knees. He looked at Sherlock expectedly, waiting for him to tell him to do something else. 

“Take off your pants.” 

Sherlock watched as John slid his pants off. He stepped out of them and kicked them towards Sherlock. Smiling softly, the detective carefully ran the head of the riding crop down John’s torso. John stood at attention, his gaze fixed on the wall behind Sherlock. Sherlock kept trailing the riding crop down his body until it met John’s erection. A shiver ran up John’s spine. 

“Such a good soldier,” Sherlock muttered. The riding crop slid along John’s member. John fought back a moan. “I believe that you should still be punished for earlier though. Do you agree with me, John?” 

John didn’t speak. Sherlock chuckled and withdrew the riding crop. 

“You can speak now. I’m asking you a question.” 

“Yes, I do agree with you. I...I should be punished.” 

If this was anyone else, John would not have admitted that. He would not allow someone to take advantage of him like Sherlock was. However, this was Sherlock. The man that he loved, the man that he trusted. He trusted Sherlock with his whole being. If Sherlock wanted to “punish” him more...he would let him. 

Sherlock grinned. 

“Good. Go to my bedroom. Lay down on my bed. Make sure that you’re laying on your stomach.” John didn’t move at first. “Go, John. Now.” 

With that order, John turned and headed to the detective’s bedroom. Sherlock followed him, a small smile playing at his lips. He lifted the riding crop and gently stroked John’s back. John shivered, but continued to walk towards Sherlock’s bedroom, wondering what else Sherlock had in store for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you so much for your support! It truly means a lot to me.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have decided to play in their bedroom.

John laid down on Sherlock’s bed, his stomach against the duvet. Sherlock shut the door behind him.   
  


“Such a good soldier.” He murmured, crossing the room to the bed.   
  


John wanted to respond; he wanted to tell him that of course he was a good soldier. _Of course_ he would do what Sherlock wanted him to do. Okay, well, that might have been pushing it a bit far. He wanted to obey him, but he also wanted to know what exactly would happen if he didn’t obey. He stored that thought in the corner of his mind, hoping that he could “break the rules” during the next “riding crop” session. 

 

His thoughts disappeared when he felt sharp pain exploding from his lower back. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. John couldn’t see Sherlock, but he had a feeling that he was shaking his head. 

 

“I asked you a question, John. I expected you to answer it.” 

 

“C-could you repeat the question for me? Please?” John asked, hoping that he wouldn’t meet the end of the riding crop again. 

 

“So you weren’t listening to me?” Sherlock shook his head. _No. John had to listen to him. He was the ‘leader’._ He swung the riding crop down; it made contact with John’s arse. John pressed his hips into the bed, recoiling from the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

“I asked you how you wanted me to please you, and you didn’t respond.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock,” John said, opening his eyes. 

 

“Yes, you should be. Now, I will use you exactly how I want to.” 

 

Shivers ran up John’s spine. He closed his eyes again, hoping to calm his racing heart. Sherlock was going to _use_ him. _Use him._ The detective’s words echoed in John’s mind. A bunch of blood seemed to race down to his already-hard member. He rubbed his pelvis against the bed absentmindedly, desperate for some friction. The riding crop met the back of his thigh. He groaned in pain. More blood soared south. 

 

“No. You’re going to please me, John. Me. Do you understand?” 

 

“Yes, Sherlock, I do.” He said, his voice muffled. Sweat started to bead on his forehead. 

 

“Good.”   
  


The bed dipped a bit. John turned his head, pressing his cheek against the bed. Sherlock’s face was a few centimeter’s away from his. His pupils were blown wide; his normally pale cheeks were flushed. He leaned forward and kissed John gently. John tried to kiss back, but Sherlock pulled away before he could. Sherlock made his way to the edge of the bed, right below John’s feet. 

 

“Spread your legs, John.” 

 

John performed the task that Sherlock wanted him to do. While John waited for Sherlock to do something, anything, to him, Sherlock tore off his pants. He crawled a bit until he was in the middle of John’s legs. He leaned down, brushing his erection over John’s buttcheeks. He heard an intake of breath and chuckled. 

 

“Your senses truly are heightened,” he murmured, smiling to himself. He leaned down and kissed John’s neck. 

 

“Y-yes, they are.” 

 

Humming, Sherlock pulled away and made his way back to the edge of the bed. A small frown tugged at John’s lips. 

  
  
"Get on your knees and elbows, John."   
  
  
   
John got to his knees and lifted himself up to his elbows. His arse was raised high in the air; Sherlock swallowed.  
  
  


“Keep your legs spread for me.”  
  
  


_Oh._ John swallowed and spread his legs as wide as he could, hoping that Sherlock would... like the view. Sherlock grinned and coated his fingers in lube. John squirmed slightly, feeling very vulnerable. _Calm down._ He focused on his breathing, hoping that it would make the squirming stop. His thoughts were cut off when he felt two fingers enter him. 

 

“Ohhh,” he breathed, dropping his head. 

 

“You’re so tight,” Sherlock whispered. “So, so, tight.”   
  
  
  
Once John was used to the fingers, Sherlock scissored them slowly. John swallowed and tried to stay still, knowing Sherlock would not be pleased if he started to squirm. Right now, he was only there for Sherlock’s pleasure. Not his own. 

 

Sherlock continued to prepare John for the next fifteen minutes, wanting to make sure the army doctor was properly prepared for him. He hummed softly to himself as he withdrew his fingers. John let out a small groan, feeling empty without the fingers.   
  
  


Before he could adjust to the emptiness, Sherlock pushed into him all at once. John groaned loudly. 

 

“Sherlock,” he groaned, trying to keep from moving.

 

“Yes, John?” He said softly, brushing his fingers down John’s back. 

 

“N-nothing.” He whispered. 

 

Sherlock chuckled and placed his hands on John’s shoulder, hoping to anchor himself. He closed his eyes as he pushed into the smaller man. John moaned softly, pushing back against Sherlock. The detective’s chaotic mind quieted; all he could think about was John. John, John, John. His John. The John that made him happy and feel secure. The John that could make him aroused so, so, easily. The John that made him feel somewhat _normal._

 

He leaned over and kissed John’s neck, moaning softly. He thrusted faster, needing more friction. 

 

“Yes-yes-Sherlock, use me. I’m _yours._ ” 

 

Sherlock tossed his head back and adjusted his angle. _Yes, that was it._ He thrusted hard and fast; sweat accumulated on his forehead. John grabbed the duvet, trying to anchor himself. He bit his lip to keep from moaning. This was for Sherlock. He was Sherlock’s. His needs _weren’t_ important right now. Sherlock cursed when he felt himself get closer. 

 

“John John John,” he moaned loudly, digging his finger nails into John’s good shoulder. 

 

John moaned softly and pushed back against Sherlock, knowing that the action would send Sherlock over the edge. 

 

“Oh! Oh! John!” Sherlock cried. He released into John, his body shaking slightly. 

 

Once he was finished, he gently let go of John’s shoulder and pulled out. He collapsed onto the bed next to John, panting. John laid down, happy to finally be off of his knees and elbows. He brushed some of Sherlock’s hair off of his forehead. 

 

“T-thank you, John,” Sherlock breathed, his eyes twinkling. 

 

John nodded and kissed the consulting detective. Sherlock glanced down John’s body, his gaze stopping on John’s erection. 

 

“Would you like me to take care of that for you?” He said, glancing back up at John. 

 

John blushed and nodded. 

 

“If you want to, Sher.” 

 

Sherlock kissed John firmly. 

 

“Of course I want to. Just...let me catch my breath.” He said, still recovering from his orgasm. 

 

“Of course.” John said, grinning. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story concludes with this chapter!

While Sherlock was recovering, John shimmied up to a sitting position. He took himself into his hand, and started to stroke. Sherlock’s breathing slowed and he watched John with wide eyes. 

 

“That’s-- that’s my job.” Sherlock said, glancing from John’s hand to his face. 

 

John smirked as a small moan escaped his lips. 

 

“You are recovering. I didn’t want to bother you with-” He let out another moan. “- this.” 

 

Sherlock shook his head and got to a sitting position. He crawled over to John and slapped his hand away. 

 

“My job.” He said softly. 

 

John titled his head back, resting it on the headboard. Sherlock leaned forward and planted a kiss firmly on John’s lips. John’s beautiful, pink, smooth lips. He hummed against them and nipped at John’s bottom lip, desperate to feel his tongue against his. The smaller man moaned softly as Sherlock’s tongue entered his mouth. John moaned and bucked his hips towards Sherlock’s hand. 

 

“M-more.” He muttered. 

 

Sherlock grinned against his lips and adjusted the pressure of his hand. He moved his hand up and down slowly, wanting to see John - _Captain_ John Watson- become undone. John pressed himself harder into Sherlock’s hand, but Sherlock didn’t adjust the pressure. No, no, no, that would be too easy. Too quick. He wanted to...how did the expression go? _Milk_ this; he wanted to enjoy unraveling of John. 

 

“P-please, Sherlock,” John moaned several minutes later. 

 

Sherlock bit John’s bottom lip before moving over to his ear. 

 

“Want more?” He asked in a undertone.   
  


  
Shivers ran up John’s spine. 

 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Please.” 

 

Sherlock smiled and increased his pace. He adjusted the pressure of his hand and made it the way  John very much liked. And that Sherlock liked, to be honest. Sherlock was someone who loved to observe others, and he loved to observe John. Not because John was odd, but because he was so _different_ than anyone else that Sherlock had ever met. When Sherlock thought that John would respond one way, John responded in another way. The ex-army doctor often said that Sherlock kept him on his toes, but John kept the consulting detective on _his_ toes as well. 

 

A loud moan cut through Sherlock’s thoughts. He blinked many times to refocus on the man that was writhing beneath him. John’s eyes were half-lidded; his breathing was ragged. Sherlock smiled softly and kissed him deeply. The pace of his hand had slackened, so he increased the pace again. He used the liquid that had started to dribble out of John’s member and slowly spread it around it with every stroke. John arched his back. 

 

“Oh-god-Sher- soon-” He said between breaths, against Sherlock’s lips. 

 

Sherlock nipped at John’s bottom lip as he made his hand go a bit faster. John’s eyes closed and he pressed himself against Sherlock’s hand. A loud moan- a moan that was marked by Sherlock’s name- escaped his lips as he released. Sherlock continued to stroke him through it, until John sagged against the bed, panting. Sherlock wiped his hand on a towel that he had placed on the nightstand and curled around the smaller man. He pulled John into his arms. John let out a soft sigh and rested his head against Sherlock’s chest. 

 

“That was...amazing, Sher,” John said softly, mumbling against his chest. 

 

Sherlock smiled and kissed John’s head. 

 

“Good...I wanted it to be good.” 

 

John laughed softly as one of his arms slipped around Sherlock’s waist. 

 

“It was.” 

 

He yawned, suddenly exhausted. Sherlock chuckled and wrapped his own arms around the smaller man. 

 

“You can sleep, John.” He said quietly. “We can talk when you wake.” 

 

John chuckled as his eyes slid shut. 

 

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.” 

 

With that, John drifted off . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued support. It truly has meant a lot to me. I hope that you enjoyed this story!


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